Clone survivor
by Darth Krande
Summary: He was created to serve the Republic and fight with and not against the Jedi. No matter how many years passed since Order 66, no matter how bitter or lonely he became, no matter the scars that attest his loyalty... he keeps doing what he was "born" to do.
1. Chapter 1

**Clone survivor**

1,

The Force.

He tried and he could not reach out for the Force.

Was he dead then? If he had been, he wondered, they why would have he been lying on a berth in a moderately lit cabin, blanketed with his own cloak?

He held the brown textile closer. Something warm and familiar in the cold space... of course this wasn't his original Jedi cloak, that one had been torn to pieces several years before, but it almost felt like that to him. Almost.

Something tangled around his right hand as he moved. It felt like a thin lace of skin... a necklace? With a green crystal on it... He quickly got the thing off his neck after recognizing it for what it was. That kybercrystal must have been the core of somebody's lightsabre.

But where...?!

His first wave of panic subsided before it could have reached its peak. His lightsabre was not on his waist anymore, but it was on the shelf right next to him, connected to a charger, and apparently, it had been properly cleaned out.

He remembered seeing it drop into the mud, right before he lost consciousness.

His body still hurt, in that dulling, paralyzing pain that made him wish he could just stay put for a little longer and perhaps hope for a little more help from whoever rescued him and his weapon from the mud.

He heard very distant footsteps, as if someone was packing food from the refrigerator. And it must have been the same person who was whistling a melody...

A familiar melody... he could remember hearing it several times, with lyrics...

 _Vode an._

He jumped up as if he had been hit by high voltage. The blue blade of his weapon activated before he could have put any conscious thought together. Then he just stared at the small ship's corridor, where his first-assumed enemy's silhouette showed up against the much brighter background.

"You're up?"

"Don't you DARE come closer, clone!"

"Fine." The trooper (there was only one of him) didn't seem to be offended, not even scared at the sight of an armed Jedi. "Fine!" He repeated, taking a step backwards anyway. "Just give back the amulet, please. That's all I ask of you. And try not to damage the ship, you'll need it later" he added as an afterthought.

The Jedi blinked. He took a deep breath. And another.

He tried to focus, which felt easier now that he was free of the kybercrystal... or whatever it was. Normally, those didn't have a negative effect on Force-sensitivity.

"I'm waiting, knight." The clone said patiently. "And maybe you want to eat something? Though so far I have only found some higher-quality Imperial food rations on board, I grew up on stuff worse than these, but I'm not sure about your taste..."

With the second flash of panic over, he deactivated his lightsabre. Apparently, this clone was of the rare kind that didn't want to see him dead.

"Yes" he managed a dry smile. "I remember what you guys had to eat back when we were on the same side. I tried it once. Then I made sure to always have some real food on board for my people, even if it was just a carriage of muja or qiraadish. They didn't seem to be very grateful for my efforts, once the Emperor had revealed himself." He finished, bitterly. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Did I ask yours?"

Seeing the Jedi wasn't about to give the dropped necklace back, the clone made his own move and picked it up from the berth. He rolled the pale leather around the crystal and slid it under a panel of his regular stormtrooper armor. At once his form disappeared from the Force like he were nonexistant.

"You at least have a number, if not a name... which I doubt. How and why did you save me?"

The clone's dark brown eyes stared back at him with a rough mixture of grief and determination.

"How: you were out cold, and with the amulet it was easiest to report you dead. Then our wise Inquisitor ordered everyone to go find proof of your Jedi-ness, read, your lightsabre. He left his own ship unguarded."

"You stole his ship?!"

"Technically, you did, as you're of the highest rank aboard."

The Jedi sat down on a kitchen chair, his chin supported with one hand.

"And how did you get back my lightsabre?"

"When they realized you were no longer there. A birth-born corporal who never bothered to tell one clone from another, bless him, trusted me with delivering it to the Inquisitor. Thank your good luck, if you believe in such thing, knight."

"Thank you, my friend." He remembered, from almost a decade ago, that a heartfelt thanks usually mattered more to a loyal trooper than anything else he could provide. He, so long ago, tried to gain friendship of those he commanded, and he thought to have managed that – until they turned against him at one single order from someone ranking higher. What he could have done otherwise, he would never know.

"As for why: because I was created to serve the Republic, and when I was created, it were the Jedi who defended it. Perhaps your order was the last thing in the entire Galaxy that wasn't out for the Republic's fall."

The clone looked to find another chair in the tiny kitchen, but since it was a private ship for one person only, there was none. Seemingly unbothered, he remained standing, and picked up an artificial-looking foodstuff, and started chewing it like it were better than what he normally received.

"I programmed the ship to make three random jumps with the eventual arrival at Commenor. The Empire's outpost is weak there, and low in numbers. You can sell this ship and use the money to cover your trail from there."

"And you?"

You're a Jedi, he reminded himself. No attachments. This clone saved your life, he apparently doesn't want your company. Ignore the fact he's the first person you could rely on in the past eight years. Ignore your past friendship to his brothers. As time had proven, those mean nothing. Nothing.

"I will re-join the Empire under some random production number, and continue my duty."

There was something... greyness in those vivid brown eyes. But One thing was sure: how old could he be? He looked like a thirty-year-old Mandalorian, which meant approximately fifteen years in a clone's life. Was he only seven when the Republic fell? How would he know how to perform proper maintenance of a lightsabre then? But even those who did serve under Jedi weren't usually this familiar with the weapon. Obviously he wasn't the first whose life he had saved, did he perhaps learn to do so from some other survivors? Was this what he referred to as continuing his duty?

He clearly didn't like talking about himself. He duely answered his questions... except for those related to his name and identification. Was he just keeping a distance, like some clones did? Or did he not trust the Jedi he just saved with the delicate information? Without sensing him in the Force, the Jedi could not tell.

But then, there was something in his eyes that the Jedi had learnt to recognize. It was the unspoken grief over lost comrades, something he was unfortunate to see too often before the Empire. He'd just lost a good captain a few hours before the... their change. Perhaps it was for the better that Tinsel died under enemy fire, so that he didn't turn against him, too? At least he didn't have to kill Tinsel like several others... at least Tinsel didn't have to kill him.

Without realizing, he sank into the same state of bittersweet emotions, the remembrance of those he fought side by side with.

"You know, I think they _are_ grateful" the trooper suddenly spoke up.

"Who?"

"Those still alive of your legion. They might view you as an enemy now, but they do remember you cared for them. Never be deceived by appearances, we clones don't forget that easily. The main difference between me and them is that, they're aging. Fast. I won't quit my fight against the Empire until I see it defeated, but your people will die without serving under their general again."

"I won't...!"

The clone stepped aside from the table.

"I know." He nodded stiffly. "But for many brothers, that is the only illusion they have left."


	2. Chapter 2

2,

She tried not to look back too often, she tried not to look back for too long. But whenever she did so, there was a red-armored stormtrooper following her from a safe distance. She couldn't tell, of course, whether it was truly the same person coming after her, or was, in fact, a larger unit of the Coruscant guard after her. Some moments, she felt so.

As a member of the Imperial Senate, she could not stop or run away. She wished she could just get lost in the crowd below, but if special ops troopers were really tracking her, she knew that would only endanger the civilians without the slightest benefit for her own safety. No, all she could do was to pray and hope she can make it to the ship before the red demon would catch up with her.

The red-armored man suddenly turned to the left, pretending not to be following her at all. She knew better than to feel safer, but she took the nearest stairs to the right, hoping to disappear on a lower level. She quickly activated her wrist radio and told her fellow Chandrilans to prepare for a take-off. She would be along in a minute.

"Is something wrong, Mon?"

"Possibly."

She just ended transmission when she realized the corridor in front of her was blocked by a middle-size transport that just docked moments ago. Several creatures disembarked it, mostly female Twi'leks and Zeltrons. By their enthusiastic chatting, she guessed they arrived to the Ambassadorial Sector to make money as dancer group. Either way, they completely ignored her.

Annoyed by the small delay, she was almost running when her way was finally free again – only to almost collide with the red-armored trooper.

"Senator Mon Mothma?"

"I am."

There were so many people around her, yet so few to even seem to notice. If anything, they were trying to get away from them as fast as possible.

"Senator. Director Armand Isard wanted this parcel to be placed on your spaceship. I would be honored if you would do me the favor, as I need to be present at an Inquisitorius conference just half an hour from now."

With that, he handed a small box over to her. He stood perfectly calm, his face hidden behind red polymer. Of course he would not let her leave without opening the box right there. Clearly, it had either some poison in it, or an explosive. If the latter, she wondered for a second if his armor would protect him as it went, or was he going to die in service of the Empire. Elite troopers were known to be conditioned to extreme loyalty.

"Perhaps it would be better for both of us if..."

"Hurry."

It was an unusually stiff, commanding tone. She had no way out.

Her second guess was true: a detonator was under the lid, flat enough that it would have passed most security scans. Now that it was uncovered and identified by the corridor's automated survelliance system, however, all the alarms went off in one kilometer radius.

So much about leaving in a minute, she wondered. But as she looked around, she found the red-armored troop had already disappeared in the turmoil.

Gone to the Inquisitorius conference, eh?

As much as she was shaken by the realization that Armand Isard wanted her murdered, it was somewhat reassuring to know that there were apt spies everywhere... even where the Director of Imperial Intelligence would expect the least.


	3. Chapter 3

3,

Hiding on a docked ship had usually worked... Usually. Imperial soldiers tended to ignore a poor, homeless, thin Twi'lek boy.

That wasn't the case once he got on the wrong ship. Where could Master Justiss be now, he wondered. Will he come after him? Like he did on that horrible night, the Purge? When he returned to the Temple to see if the signal could be altered, but instead of besieging the former home, he went for the safehouses on the lower levels, and helped ten survivors escape right from under Sidious's nose?

His lekkus trembled at the sight of an Inquisitor. As long as there were only stormtroopers, he guessed he would manage – but not with their leader around. How could he be so bold? Why did he have to sneak on a ship that he knew was heading for the capital? As long as they were in the Mid Rim, his master believed both of them to be safe.

Someone had already seen him, he was sure. Through the Force, he could hear the enemy sending the troopers to search the ships one by one, and to capture him alive.

That was not going to happen, he decided. Anything but that.

"Take this on and follow me"

What?!

He turned around. A lone stormtrooper in red armor was standing behind him, weapons still in their holsters. How could he sneak up behind him? He reached out with the Force, and to his shock, he couldn't feel the soldier. As if hadn't existed.

"You won't feel me" the trooper told him, as if reading his thoughts. "At least not until you take this medal from me."

"Who are you?" The Twi'lek carefully asked. "And what's with the medal?"

"Don't ask either. So far, there is only one of those traitors here. I suspect the rest are still conferring about the Rebel agent who infiltrated their ranks and helped Senator Mothma escape. They will be around if you don't disappear soon, however."

"How do you know they're conferring?"

"I was there when they started it." The red trooper replied with a faint shade of proudness in his voice. "I brought them the news of an infiltrated spy. They bought it. Now let's move!"

When he accepted the medal (it was some crystal on a thin leather lace) he hoped he would gain a better understanding of the Force. The exact opposite happened: as if he lost all connection to it the moment it touched his skin.

"Now disable your lightsabre and put this dataring on it. Refer to it as a data cylinder. If anybody asks, from now on you are Kai Taa, illegitimate child of Senator Orn Free Taa. Don't worry, not even he knows how many of those he has."

He allowed himself a careful joke.

"I guess your father was in a slightly similar situation."

To his surprise, the soldier took off his red helmet to show how correct his assumption was. A clonetrooper, indeed.

"Nice work, padawan. Now let us go, before we run into the reinforcement."

"They would kill us, right?"

The clone gave him a very honest-feeling look.

"Worse. They would keep you to become one of them." The helmet was back on his head in a second. "Then I would need to start rescuing Jedi from you as well. I'd rather not."

The young Twi'lek grabbed his hand.

"Is that why you refuse to trust me with your name? In case I would turn to the Dark Side?"

"Partly" the clone replied while guiding him down on a maintenance ladder. "And partly because I don't have a name anymore. Not even an identification number. I use those of the dead, and never one that could be in any way connected to my former alteregos."

"It can't be easy." The soldier felt the kid's sharp gaze on him.

A very quiet sigh was the answer. They were approaching an elevator that would take them to the nearest maglev station.

"We were raised to be loyal to ideals, never to people" he added finally. "Here, I hid some clothes in advance, see if they fit."

"Much like we were, I suppose" the blue Twi'lek boy nodded. "I remember Master Yoda telling us never to be attached to anyone, only to the Order, and to the Republic. Do you know if he's still alive?"

"The Emperor didn't give up searching for him. Do you always speak this much?"

The boy fell quiet for a second, if only to allow the clone to arrange the elegant valence on the neck of his robes.

"That's better. Now, young sir, quit asking me for a long time, about Jedi business or about anything else. Be disdainful with me, or else we'll never make it past the security controls."

"I will try."

"If you fail... just remember, the one I served under during the war is just as dead as every other Jedi who had clones under their command."

* * *

 **Panda** : Thank you! I don't have huge plans for a main plot (not much, anyway) as this is the follow-up of the main story Clone identity. If you read that one too, you'll find this last line very spoilery :)


End file.
